Friday, November 11, 2011

Where’s Frank?

The last letter Frank sent to William and Agnes Tully Stevens at their West Garfield Boulevard address had a handwritten note marked on the envelope: “Letter came March 4th.” Though there didn’t seem to be an inordinate delay—after all, Frank dated his letter February 24 and besides, it coincided with the time of the Stevens’ household’s move to their new address in Chicago—it turned out to be a long-awaited, though miserably short, piece of mail.

Mostly for what happened in the gap between this note and Frank’s last letter is the anxiety over this piece of paper owing, betraying his parents’ worry and uncertainty about their boy’s wellbeing—which brings up the question: where was Frank?

Febuary 24th 1945

Dear All:

Just a few short lines to let you know I’m all right and to help you keep from worrying. I can’t tell you a thing of what we are doing but will as soon as I can. Don’t know how in the hell I’m going to fill up this sheet of paper but as you have already guessed we are pretty busy and right now I’m pretty tired. Our ship is pretty lucky and the gang are tops so again I say don’t worry. The censors told us to make these short and sweet as they have quite a few of them to censor and they want them all to get out in this mail as we don’t know when we might have another chance to send it out. Really have to close now. Take care of yourselves and pray for your

About Me

It is my contention that, after a lifetime, one of the greatest needs people have is to be remembered. They want to know: have I made a difference?
I write because I can't keep for myself the gifts others have entrusted to me. Through what I've already been given--though not forgetting those to whom I must pass this along--from family I receive my heritage; through family I leave a legacy. With family I weave a tapestry. These are my strands.